


Fragment

by orphan_account



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Disturbing Content, F/M, Kidnapping, but nothing explicit, old works (2013)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:05:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2794145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Katniss returned home for the first time in four years, she didn't expect to feel so out of place. She wasnt the young, foolish teenager she'd been before; now she was the broken young woman that stared back at her from the mirror. Everlark AU, modern day. Began as an entry for PiP then somehow became a full story. This is one of my older works and I am posting it with new edits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all. So I need to say, WARNING: This fic contains material that could be triggering for some people. It's nothing graphic, but it is quite disturbing so please watch yourselves. I will give a note at the beginning of each chapter with triggering content. 
> 
> Also, this is an old work of mine from FFN.net and I thought I'd post it here too. Enjoy :)

The door opened, letting off the familiar creak that her father had never fixed. Katniss glanced inside, noticing that everything was in the same place as when she'd left. It was strange, glimpsing into the room that had gone untouched for four years, it didn't feel like her room, even though everything was the same. It was like looking into the room of a different Katniss, someone who certainly wasn't her.

A thin layer of dust covered all her belongings, a barrier that separated her from everything that once was. She felt wrong, as if she couldn't touch anything, move anything. As if disrupting the cold stillness of the room would be like going into a stranger's room; the other Katniss's room, the one who was happy, and safe, and loving. She wasn't that Katniss anymore.

The walls were still green, but now it felt somber. Katniss remembered how she'd begged her parents to let her paint them a happy colour, even though her mother had protested. Now she hated the walls that had lived on without her; they seemed inappropriate somehow.

She willed herself to walk, running her hands along the perfectly pressed brown sheets of the bed. She couldn't even call it her bed anymore. It wasn't her bed.

She wished her parents had done something to the room, repainted, or at the very least messed up the sheets a little. The other Katniss would have hated that, but the new her didn't mind at all. The new one didn't want perfect sheets, and unmoved furniture, all things that made her feel more disconnected. She didn't need reminders of what once was; she needed something to have changed, so she'd be allowed to have changed too. It was like the room was forcing her to be the other Katniss, the one who belonged in this room.

Katniss sat down, pulling the sheets up over her head, and curling into a ball beneath the covers. She messed up the bedspread, throwing her pillow to the floor.

Oh how she longed to be the other Katniss. Her heart ached at the thought that it was unattainable. Too much had happened, too much had changed. She choked on her sobs, letting tears streak down her face. She couldn't even remember what it felt like before, what it was like hiding out in this room. The countless hours she'd spent under these very covers seemed so far away.

"Kat?" her mother's voice came from down the hall. "Dinner's ready."

Katniss pushed off the covers, wiping at her eyes. None of this felt right.

She stood up, and for the first time in four years, she caught a glimpse of her face. The dusty old mirror glared at her, showing everything that she'd lost. The other Katniss had been pretty, but this Katniss had dark, hollow cheeks, and bloodshot eyes. This Katniss's face showed that she'd been underfed, that she'd been abused. She had bruises speckled across her jaw, and dark circles under her eyes; she looked like a stranger.

Yet somehow she wasn't even bothered by it, this face was the face of the real Katniss, the new Katniss. It now suited what she felt perfectly. She was the battered, broken girl in the mirror, not the strong, happy Katniss.

Dinner was silent other than the scraping of forks against ceramic. She knew her parents wanted her to say something, but she just couldn't. There was too much distance between them, and anyways, she hadn't spoken for a very long time.

They were different, their hair was gray, unlike when she'd last seen them. And now they had heavy lines of worry around their eyes, and mouths. She was angry that she'd caused them such pain, and was continuing to do so. She loved them so much, but still she refused to speak.

She didn't even feel at home with her parents. They were different people, just as she was a different person. Everyone she knew was different now, but it was like they all wanted to pretend nothing had changed. She had to do enough pretending as it was.

She bent over, placing her head in her hands. She wished she didn't have to pretend.

"Kat, are you alright?" her father asked.

She looked back up, forcing a smile and a curt nod. Of course she wasn't alright, she was a stranger in her own home.

Her parents smiled.

"We've missed you so much Kat."

She just continued smiling.

\-----

Peeta was in his run down London apartment when he got the call. It was a voice he hadn't heard in years.

"Hello? Peeta?" It was Katniss's mother.

He was filled with dread; he hadn't thought he'd ever speak to her again. "Yes?" he answered.

"They found Katniss," she said softly, her voice breaking.

"What?" he was shocked, and terrified. He wasn't ready for this "Oh god… She… She's…"

"She's alive Peeta,"

His heart swelled, tears coming to his eyes. After four long years he'd lost all hope that they'd find her alive.

"She's ok?" he asked, his head hardly able to believe it.

"Yes, she just got out of the hospital…" she trailed off. "I understand if you're too busy to come down… It was a long time ago after all…"

"Of course I want to see her,"

Of course he did. In his mind it had never been a question.

He then forced himself to ask what had been plaguing his mind, the question he feared. "Where was she… What happened to her?"

There was silence for a moment.

"They found her out on the highway outside of New York, but… She hasn't spoken a word; not to us, not to the police. We really don't know what happened to her."

Peeta couldn't help but feel it was his fault that she'd been taken. That he shouldn't have let her walk home alone that night, no matter how angry they'd both been. He hadn't known it would cause so much heartache.

But now she was back, and she was okay… He would set things right.

\----

It was late when he got to Boston, too late really for a visit, but Peeta couldn't stop himself from driving up into the familiar driveway. He had to see her.

He stepped out of the car, making his way up to her window. He tapped on it softly, just like he had all those years ago. Just like back when they'd been just stupid teenagers.

When she turned on the light and opened up the glass, his breath caught in his throat just like before. He wanted to hold her face in his hands and kiss away every bruise on her face. He wanted to make her feel loved, and wanted, and cared for. He wanted to piece her back together and make her feel whole again.

"Peeta," she said, her voice soft, her eyes lighting up.

"Hey," he smiled at her. Not with pity, or disgust, just pure and uncomplicated love.

One look into his eyes and she was home at last.


	2. Memories and Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long-awaited reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter is flashbacks.

"Can I come in?" Peeta asked softly, his eyes never leaving her. He could hardly contain the joy of seeing her again.

Katniss nodded humbly, staying silent. Peeta swung himself over the windowsill, very grateful that her room was on ground level.

He took a step inside, noticing that she'd moved all her furniture around. It was just one little hint of how broken she was. In all the time he'd known her, Katniss had never once changed the layout of her room. She was clean and precise in personality; she had liked things to stay organized, and unchanged.

He turned towards her, smiling at the sight; he was just so happy to have her near.

She wrapped her arms around herself, forcing a smile onto her face.

"You don't have to pretend with me Kat," Peeta said. "I know you're not ok, you don't have to fake it."

He grabbed her hand carefully, and she flinched at his touch, but he didn't drop it. He lifted his own hand up, so that their palms were pressed together.

"You never have to worry with me; I'll keep you safe, I'll listen to you, I'll hold you when you cry; I'm not going anywhere Katniss, I'm staying right here with you."

She sat down on her bed, not bothering to fix the sheets. She didn't really know how to respond to that.

"You should try to sleep; it'll be good for you"

She nodded heavily, not really wanting to sleep; but still she lay down on her back, staring at the speckled ceiling.

Peeta reached for her lamp, which gave off a flickering yellow light but she grabbed his wrist firmly.

"Please," she said softly. "Leave it on."

He backed away, lying down beside her.

They both stayed like that for a while, never speaking, never sleeping, just happy to be near each other. She wished she felt safe with Peeta like she did before, but now, she barely knew him. But to be fair she didn't think she'd ever feel safe anymore.

"I'm so sorry Katniss" He said suddenly. "I'm so sorry about that night, it's all my fault"

She grabbed his hand, stopping him, reassuring him, trying to tell him that it wasn't. Thinking of him had been the only thing that kept her going.

"I think about it all the time," he continued. "What I could have done differently,"

She thought about it a lot too, about the night that it all started, the night of the party.

Katniss hated parties. The music was loud, and heavy, and the people were drunk, and rowdy. It smelled like alcohol, sweat, and something else she couldn't quite determine.

But Peeta had convinced her to go, just like he always did. He'd looked at her with those clear blue eyes and told her she didn't have to. So of course that meant that she did.

And so they'd ended up here; Katniss wandering through Madison's mansion of a house, and Peeta off somewhere unknown. She wished he'd at least stayed with her after forcing her to come, but Peeta had too many friends. He wasn't a loner like her.

She couldn't even occupy herself with a couple drinks. She knew what alcohol did to a person. The few select family dinners with her uncle Haymitch had shown her that.

Katniss made her way down the more deserted hallways, finding herself in a lavishly decorated room with a magnificent grand piano. It was made of polished burgundy wood, with a shiny finish. Katniss's fingers ached; she wanted desperately to play it.

She placed herself at the stool, dangling her hands over the keys. And then she let the tune override her emotions, letting her fingers guide her into familiar melodies.

There was nowhere she felt quite as safe as in front of the instrument; it was as if it could shield her from the rest of the world.

XXX

Peeta was looking for Katniss when he noticed.

He was standing outside of a dark room, one drink in hand. He'd thought the room was empty, but now he knew he was wrong. He could hear someone talking.

"No," the voice said. "Michael, stop it."

There was a rustling noise, and the voice started again. "Michael, stop!"

Peeta heard it, he knew that he'd hit her. The lights flickered on in the room, and a girl came storming out.

It was Delly, Delly who Peeta had known for years, Delly who was like his sister.

She had tears running down her face, and a cut on her cheek. She looked so fragile and small; nothing like her normal, bubbly, cheerleader self.

Peeta turned towards the room, facing Michael head on.

"Don't you dare touch her again!" he yelled, pushing him into the wall. "Do you hear me?"

Then he backed off; he wasn't one to start a fight. He knew he was just lucky Michael was a little too drunk to hit him back.

Peeta glanced at Delly, who looked just about ready to pass out, then he scooped her up in his arms to put her on the couch. He walked into the living room, trying to find a spot that wasn't covered in food or alcohol spills.

"Are you ok?" he asked her quietly.

She nodded, wiping at her eyes. She looked up at him, her gaze intense.

"Peeta?" she asked.

"Hmm?" he looked back at her, still searching the room.

"Thank you," and then she kissed him, right there, in front of everyone, just as Katniss walked in.

He pushed her head back softly, his face showing the confusion that he felt. He placed her onto the couch just in time to see Katniss stalk out of the room angrily.

"Katniss!" he yelled, following her through the crowd of teenagers. "Wait!"

He placed a hand on her shoulder and she turned around, her face angry.

"What was that Peeta?" she yelled. "Why did you kiss her?"

"I didn't... I... She kissed me Katniss, not the other way around."

"Do you love her?" she asked boldly, eyebrows scrunched up.

"No, Kat, of course not."

"Then why did you let her kiss you?"

"I didn't, I didn't want her to. I was helping her out."

"Why? What did you have to help her with, and why did she think she could kiss you?"

"I don't know Katniss, she knows we're together,"

"You know, you're better off with her. I never was good enough for you." She exclaimed, voic breaking.

Peeta looked at her sadly, not wanting to believe that she thought that. "That's not true; you know it's not,"

She'd always felt out of place with him. "No Peeta, I actually don't. I don't fit in with your friends, with your life. I don't really even fit in with you. Delly, on the other hand, is perfect for you,"

She turned on her heel, fuming, then stomped out the back door. Peeta called for her once but she just kept going, never turning around to look at him.

Peeta felt defeated; he knew he shouldn't have let it happen, he knew that he should have just broken them up and left it at that; but he felt he had to take care of Delly.

He walked back down the hallway, and into the living room. Everyone stared at him in silence, but he just ignored them. He picked up a passed out Delly, and carried her outside; he wasn't letting her get a drive home with Michael.

XXX

Katniss was angry, very, very angry. She knew there was nothing wrong with Peeta helping out a friend; she just wished he wasn't always so good. That he wasn't always so kind, that he didn't feel that he had to look out for everyone. She wasn't surprised that Delly was in love with him, she just hated the fact that she was. Katniss had always felt beneath him; he was meant to be with a pretty blonde, popular cheerleader. She still didn't understand why he had chosen her in the first place.

He was never really mine, she thought, tears welling up in her eyes. We weren't meant to be.

She continued what would be a long trek home, stepping on twigs and fallen leaves. The sound was comforting somehow, as if it was reassuring her that she wasn't alone.

But that night it probably would have been better if she had been.


	3. What Should Never Have Been Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A recount for the police, and flashbacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the beginning of the dark stuff, I'm warning you all now. This chapter alludes to sexual abuse. I am sorry if this is not very realistic. I wrote this awhile ago, but I am aware that it is a topic that should be taken seriously.

Katniss had been worried that this would happen.

Even though she was supposedly safe from everything that had happened, she couldn't escape it at night. She was forced to relive the horrible years that had taken her innocence in her sleep.

She could hear his voice, low and gravelly; it still sent shivers down her spine. He kept speaking, telling her that she was his, always his and that she could never escape. He would run his fingers through her hair and the moment she would flinch he would tug on it, pulling out chunks.

"You'll never leave," said the voice. "You belong to me…"

"Katniss!" this voice was different. "Katniss!"

Someone was yelling at her, shaking her by the shoulders. Oh but the voice was familiar, so familiar.

And she woke up, startled. She looked to Peeta, who had concern etched onto his face.

"Kat?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking. Tears welled up in her eyes involuntarily.

"Don't be," Peeta whispered. "You went through a lot. But... I'm here for you."

He reached out and held her hand, squeezing it gently.

"Katniss?" he asked after a few second. "I know it's hard, but I think you should talk to the police. You don't need to tell them everything but... Some key things like where you were and who took you would be good."

She nodded reluctantly, squeezing her eyes shut. She didn't feel ready, it was all too soon. She really didn't want to talk. She was scared. If anything she wished she could forget everything that had happened and just move on, but it seemed that it would be impossible. No one would allow her to forget until the man was in prison.

So instead she pulled a notebook off her bedside table, a notebook that still had her frivolous teenage thoughts inside of it. She opened it up, smoothing out the crinkled pages. She'd been so different then.

Katniss grabbed a black pen off the table and decided that she would tell the police in the only way that she knew how.

 

Four Years Earlier

The rain started out light, just a faint drizzle echoing through the trees, but then it thickened, soon coating everything in a slippery layer.

At first Katniss embraced the rain, allowing it to fill the sorrow in her chest. She shouldn't have yelled at Peeta, she knew that. She hated the part of her that could be selfish and... Jealous.

In just seconds the light drizzle became a heavy pour, drenching her completely and plastering her hair to her forehead. The rain was so thick that Katniss could hardly see the skinny forest path beneath her feet. All sound was blocked by the heavy splatter of raindrops, even the breaking of twigs beneath her feet. No, she had no way of knowing that she wasn't alone.

She'd always wondered why he took her, why he'd picked her out of all the other girls at that party, but soon those thoughts were muddled by fear and confusion, and light-headedness. Soon, Katniss became someone new.

When Katniss first woke up, locked in the dark, she was scared. She'd never felt quite like this before.

In that moment of pure alienation, for the first time, Katniss felt true fear.

It wasn't like the nervousness she'd mistaken for fear when Peeta had kissed her for the first time. It was nothing like the anxiety of the first time she drove on the highway. No, this was something different; all those events seemed tiny in comparison.

But mostly, even though she was scared, and cold, and so alone, Katniss still had one thing that new her didn't: hope.

Even though she was terrified of what the future might hold, even though the isolation was enough to drive anyone mad, at least Katniss still hoped deep down in her heart, that someone would find her.

Later that feeling would numb, and she'd feel nothing but helplessness. Later, she would hope that they'd forgotten about her. Especially Peeta.

But at least then she was still Katniss, for that would all change.

 

Katniss clutched her notebook at her side, wishing she could hide behind it. She didn't like the police officers who stood in her living room, staring at her like she was a science experiment gone wrong. They didn't understand her.

"It's alright darling, you can give them the book," her mother persuaded, speaking to her like she would a much younger Katniss.

She handed them the notebook, reluctantly. Luckily she'd already torn up the pages that used to reside within. The notebook wasn't for what she'd once thought we're meaningful stories of love; no, it now held her darkest secrets. It didn't belong to the other her anymore.

No one spoke as the younger officer flipped through the pages, examining the writing closely. The whole room was tense, as if holding a collective breath. No one dared break the silence.

A few minutes later both officers had gone through the books, looking back at the family kindly.

"So, you don't have any idea what he looked like?" one of them asked, turning towards Katniss.

She took a breath, reaching into her pocket for a folded up piece of paper.

She'd gotten Peeta to draw it for her, as best as she could remember.

The man's hair had been blond, ranging almost into a sandy brown.

Brian... That's what he had called himself.

"Miss?" the officer asked, and Katniss was snapped out of her trance.

"I know that this is a hard question to answer, but we need you to tell us honestly. We know that this man abused you physically, but... Did he do anything else to you?"

Katniss placed her head in her hands; they shouldn't have asked that question. Not with her parents here.

She looked back up at them, refusing to cry. Her heart was racing.

"Yes..." she answered, the response barely audible.

And that was all they had needed to know.

Katniss walked back down the hallway, ignoring the surprised and pitying looks on her parents' faces. They shouldn't have been surprised; surely they'd thought it might have happened.

She sat down on the cold hardwood floor of her bedroom, pushing away thoughts of abuse, and... She refused to let him get to her; he wasn't in control anymore. Katniss placed her head on her knees and closed her eyes, but as soon as the darkness hit she felt no different than when she had been locked up in the cellar.


	4. Just Out of Reach

It had become a ritual for Katniss in the past few days. She would start by opening the curtains that her parents had closed when they thought she was asleep, and then she'd turn on all the lights. After that she'd walk into her washroom, cover the mirror with a towel and then step into the shower. She refused to look at herself, to see the damage done to her. She hated the sight of her bruised body.

Then she'd scrub her skin until it turned red, just hoping that she'd be able to get rid of the horrible feeling. But it never worked. No matter how long she stayed in the shower, the grimy, dirty feeling never left her skin. She would forever feel filthy.

When she was finally finished, and the water ran cold, Katniss would pull her baggy T-shirt back on and lie down on her unmade bed. She would stay there for a while, wanting to go back to sleep and not have to deal with the rest of life. But of course, that never happened. Soon enough her parents would try to feed her, and if that didn't work, they'd call Peeta over a few hours earlier than usual. That's how it worked, and Katniss had become sick of it.

Today would be different, she told herself; no more being weak and depending on others.

She tried to get up and avoid the shower, but she couldn't. One step at a time, she thought. Tomorrow she'd skip the shower.

After that she managed to get herself out into the kitchen, prepared to be useful. She cleaned the pile of dishes by the sink, trying to be quiet so as to not wake her parents.

It was comfortable almost; doing something so common made her feel normal for just a second. She'd actually missed the warm water and profuse feeling of belonging. She almost felt safe. Almost…

But as soon as the foolish giddiness came it left, leaving Katniss feeling empty. She refused to let the thoughts come to mind, but that didn't fill the hole in her chest

They drove in eerie silence, winding through the crowded streets of Boston. Katniss grasped Peeta's hand like a lifeline, trying to shake the awkward feeling. Her parents looked back constantly, as if expecting that she'd just disappear and they'd lose her forever.

She began to doubt her choice to go into the city, leaving the comfortable safety of her bedroom; but she'd wanted to feel normal again.

"You don't have to do this Kat," Peeta whispered, leaning in towards her. "No one expects anything; you don't have anything to prove. We all care about you, and whatever decisions you make."

She smiled solemnly, pressing her palms together in front of her face. A deep line appeared in her forehead as she nodded at him. "I know Peeta, but this is what I need,"

But even she wasn't sure. The town was bustling, and noisy, and overwhelming.

The car stopped, pulling up in front of the diner. Katniss stepped out tentatively, dropping Peeta's hand.

"I'm really fine." She told him, more so reassuring herself.

Her mother gave her a wave, before pushing on the gas again.

"We'll pick you two up in an hour," she told her daughter, smiling brightly.

Katniss nodded at her, unsure of what to say. She took Peeta's hand again, hoping for reassurance.

The two of them walked up and opened the door, a familiar chime ringing through the small restaurant.

An older, dark skinned woman was wiping a table, but turned at the bell.

"Katniss?" she gasped in surprise, taking in the sight of the brown haired woman.

"Sae," Katniss smiled, her heart wrenching at fond memories.

"I've seen you on the news and… I… It's so nice to see you again Katniss."

Katniss walked forward, Peeta trailing beside her.

"Are you two looking for a table?"

Katniss nodded, looking up at her companion.

They were placed at what used to be their regular table, right in front of the window. Sae didn't even take their order, just showed up a few minutes later with the usual cherry pie and chocolate milkshakes.

At the first bite, Katniss began to wonder how she'd doubted coming here at all. The pie was better than she'd remembered it being, with a flaky crust and gooey cherry filling. Peeta just watched, unable to tear his eyes away from her. Sometimes he still forgot that she was safe.

The two of them took their time, just happy with good food and each other's company.

Peeta and Katniss stood outside the diner, waiting for Katniss's parents to pick her up. She'd insisted that they could walk home, but it was apparent that they felt they needed to keep a watchful eye. It was twenty minutes to walk, no more, but she understood why they didn't let her.

The streets were filled with noise, laughing, crying, screaming, yelling. It was all so overwhelming.

Katniss felt her mind drifting, and struggled to keep it in place; but there was just so much noise. Her eyes wandered, landing on a sandy blond head. Her heart picked up, beating at double time. Surely that wasn't him…

She gripped Peeta's hand, her eyes unable to break away from the retreating figure.

 

It's funny how after so many hours of darkness and isolation, you lose track of time. Before she'd been taken, Katniss had taken simple things like time for granted. Nobody quite realizes how much we depend on light.

For her, there was no sun to announce a new day; she had only the steady beat of her heart to count approximate seconds. She could have been locked up for days, or months, or years; it all felt unbearably long. And the silence, that was enough to drive anyone mad.

Eventually she no longer knew when she was awake; there was only the shroud: cold and harsh, and uninviting. Yet still, she was plunged in it, with no way to get out. Awake or asleep, it was all the same; there was just that numb feeling that filled her chest.

She didn't even remember what she looked like. People had called her pretty; what did that mean really? She tried to imagine what she looked like, but couldn't even conjure a simple image. She was a stranger in her own body.

Katniss reached her hand out, her palm resting on what she assumed was the bridge of her nose. Her face was now so unfamiliar. She ran her fingers down, trying to remember shape of her nose, and the curve of her lips. Her hair was stringy and filthy, and she couldn't recall what colour it had been. And her eyes? She didn't remember those either. She tried to recall things about her life that now felt so far away. She wanted to remember.

Her parents had always called her strong, but she definitely didn't feel strong. She now doubted everything people had said; none of it meant anything. Not there locked up in a closet. Whoever she'd been before didn't matter; she wasn't even sure she could feel anymore. The despair and alienation filled her chest, taking the place of love and happiness. She wasn't sure what she was becoming.

Who am I? She wondered.

"Katniss," someone had that velvety voice that sent shivers up her spine. "My Katniss,"

Katniss... She didn't feel connected to that name anymore; what did Katniss mean really? It was just a title; it didn't show strength or power, it was just a word.

But the way Peeta said it; he made it seem like so much more. In that one two-syllabled word he could convey every emotion running through his system. With just a whisper he could show how much he cared. Oh and she cared for him too.

The mere thought of him dug a deeper pit in her heart. He probably didn't care anymore; it had been a long time. To think that he might have moved on, and now called another girl's name with that emotion almost crushed her. Still, she allowed the thought of his deep eyes to keep her going. She would let what little strength she still possessed give her hope. She wouldn't give up just yet, even though the door she leant upon bound her to her cell. She vowed that one day she would find him again.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a single sliver of bright light made its way into the darkness. Katniss tensed as he placed his hand over her mouth, muffling a gasp. She squirmed as he pulled her up from the floor, closing the door and emerging them in solitude. She struggled against him, whimpering softly as his hands were placed on her shoulders and slid down to her hips. She learned the hard way that she could never beat him; he made sure she knew that she belonged to him. That day, he broke something inside her, and she became someone new.


End file.
